Coming to Terms
by nerdygirl03
Summary: Haven and Jace were finally coming to terms with their roles in life- a damsel hidden from the world and a villain to be seen in nightmares- but when they meet each other, everything is beginning to get mixed up. And the big question on everyone's mind: when Jace finally gains Haven's trust, can he throw it away for his father's sick ploy? OCxOC
1. Prologue

Prologue

The day a small bundle of blankets showed up on the front steps of Wayne Manor was the first day that Mr. Bruce Wayne became truly afraid. He knew the child- a little girl- was his in just one glance due to the gleaming blue eyes. However, that was not his worry. His worry was with the mother- whoever she may be as Mr. Wayne had in fact been with many woman- and with the thought that anyone had seen the child appear there at his doorstep.

"Alfred!" Mr. Wayne called after having taken the child and slammed the door behind himself, "Alfred! Where are you!?" He was running through the house, infant in arms, looking for the old man within seconds as panic began to take over.

"Master Bruce?" the accented voice of Alfred Pennyworth asked, coming around a corner from the kitchen. As soon as he saw what the worried Mr. Wayne was carrying, his eyes widened. "Where did you- A baby!?" Alfred spluttered, not exactly comprehending what was going on.

"It was on the doorstep, Alfred," Mr. Wayne explained hurriedly, "I don't know where she came from, I don't know how she got here- well, I know but I don't know who the mother is, Alfred! I can't keep a child here, it's much too dangerous! I can't risk this!" Mr. Wayne's voice had escalated into a shout, disturbing the baby greatly and causing her to let out a loud sob. Startled, Mr. Wayne almost dropped her, which was when Alfred swept the baby from the arms of her father.

"Master Bruce, you must be quiet in front of a child this young," Alfred instructed, regaining his usual cool composure, "Now, was there anything with her? A letter or-" But Alfred cut off when he unfolded the light pink fabric the baby was bundled in and found exactly what he was looking for. An envelope. No name, or address was on it, but all the same, he took it from the blankets and handed it to Mr. Wayne. "For you, I presume."

Mr. Wayne's hand was shaking slightly as he took the envelope, and then carefully opened it. His lips pursed, thinning into a line, as he read the words in an unfamiliar handwriting:

My Dear Bruce,

This little piece of heaven is your daughter, as you can probably tell. She has your eyes...

I am very sorry to have to leave her with you but I am going away. For a very long time. And I will not be coming back. Where I am going, I cannot take our daughter and so I have left her here with you in hopes you will care for her...

Please, as a last favor to me, care for her.

There was no name, no initial. Nothing to put a name of a mother to the baby.

"Heaven..." Mr. Wayne mumbled, thinking of something to call the baby. Heaven, however, he found unsuitable. If the little girl was to stay with him, she would be in no heaven, but more of a sheltered safe haven. And that is how he found her name. "Haven," he said softly, looking up from the letter to the little baby who had her eyes set on him. Yes, Haven would be a marvelous name for the child. He would not only provide her a haven of protection, but she would provide him with his own haven- one of happiness and actual joy, something he hadn't had in a long time.

"Haven?" Alfred asked, also looking to the child, "Is that to be her name?" Mr. Wayne nodded, before turning and walking away.

"If you need me, I will be in the study, finding out how to make a nursery for little Haven Wayne," Mr. Wayne mumbled, and then he had disappeared into the manor.

"Oh, Mister J!" Dr. Harleen Quinzel- better known as Harley Quinn- whined as her husband dragged her son towards the door, "Please don't take Jace out to another killing! He could get hurt! You could get hurt!" Little four year old Jace looked around to his mother, his face white with make-up and eyes watery with unshed tears. The child didn't dare cry though, not in front of his father at least.

"Shut up, Harley," the Joker growled in his raspy and crackled voice, tugging the door of the condemned house open and shoving his son out.

"Mister J, please! How about I go with you and Jace can stay home?" Harley negotiated, trying to remember where her old outfit was incase her husband went with her plan as she hoped he did. Jace was much too young to be doing something so dangerous... Harley knew that, if the situation came to it, her husband would abandon their little boy in order to get away. He would do the same with her.

"Stay at the house, Harley," he hissed, looking to his wife. She flinched at the exaggerated makeup that- while on little Jace looked humorous- made her husband look terrifying. "Do not make me tell you again," the Joker said calmly, then looked back to his son, "Come on, Jace."

Practically dragging her son from her sight, the Joker left the home, leaving Harley all alone to worry about the whereabouts of Jace. She paced for a few moments, then turned to an old friend. Drinking.


	2. Chapter One

_Seventeen Years Later_

Bang!

Jace removed the tip of the gun from his now lifeless victim's temple, taking in a deep breath. He could smell the sickly scent of blood as it ran from the dead man's head. Some part of his gnarled heart probably ached right now as he looked upon the body, but he was so used to it.. it didn't even register the pain as he reached in the man's pocket to retrieve a wallet. Opening it, the first thing he saw was a picture of a family- and a rather large one at that. Four boys, a little girl, and a pretty wife. Jace suddenly felt sick as he threw the otherwise empty wallet into the pooling crimson liquid. He turned from the body, head down as he slung the gun over his shoulder.

If he was truthful to himself, Jace would admit he hated killing... he hated being a murderer. But he was born into the life, the job... the legend. It was destiny, no choice required or wanted. He was going to be the next big villain when his old man passed. He was being trained for it. He had been training since he was little... he was only three when he had his first kill...

He could remember the moment perfectly. He had been assisted, of course, as his father had shown him where to press the knife into the soft flesh of the already unconscious lady. It was only a matter of pushing until he heard the pop of cartilage, the bubbling of blood... He hadn't completely understood at that age, but when he had seen the blood he had immediately started crying. He had known something was wrong. But his father, being the psychopath he was, only smacked Jace and told him to grow up.

"Death happens," he had said in his cold, rasping voice, "If you want to cry, I'll give you something to cry about." Crying was unacceptable. Jace had learned that long ago... He doubted it was even possible for himself to shed tears any longer.

Jace made his way out of the office of the now dead man into the lobby of a bank. There were others in there, his father's followers, all wearing the thick plastic clown masks. Jace made a face at these. Cowards, they were. They were hiding their identities- their lives- behind those masks so when they were done they could go straight back to ordinary. For Jace, and his father in that case, there was no normal. And so the only thing that hid his father and himself was a thin layer of makeup, his father's more so as he went the whole clown thing. Jace, however, only wore one sort of makeup- the thick black kind. It was piled in fat circles around his eyes, causing the green orbs to stand out even more than they usually did. Jace also had a habit of putting it on over his lips and then spreading it to look like a Cheshire smile of sorts.

"Jes," a voice called, and Jace reacted with a sharp turn of his head. To his left, he saw his father coming, his normal grimace turned to a smile by gruesome scars and blood red makeup. "Jester, you find anything?"

Jace shook his head, almost groaning at the name. Jester. He hated that as much as the rest of the job, but went with it without any words. He was the silent member of his father's gang.

"Very disappointing, Jes," his father sighed, "This is the fourth unsuccessful job for you. If you weren't my son, I would've killed you by now, but then if it wasn't for your mother, I'd have killed you a long time ago." Jace bit his tongue angrily as his father let out a fit of wild laughter. He always talked so lightly about Jace's life, as if he didn't even care- which Jace knew he didn't. When he was little, Jace had been left behind multiple times when cops had showed up and had to find his own way out of sticky situations. He had also been held as a human shield and ransom by his own father. Thankfully, no one wanted to see a kid get killed.

After a moment, Jace just shrugged, and walked towards the bank's front exit. His father didn't try to stop him, probably knowing cops would be showing soon. Jace pulled the hood of his black jacket up with his free hand as he ran through the revolving door, using the other hand to keep hold of the gun. He was out just in time to hear the police sirens approaching. Slipping into the shadowy alley beside the bank, Jace began to run. Knowing that if the police were on the way, the hero would be at the bank within seconds.

However, Jace had no clue that the hero he was thinking of was following himself until his leg was caught by some sort of metal claw and then tugged it from under him towards the sky. He fell backwards, his other leg twisting painfully as he did and his head hitting the concrete. Jace felt his eyes water as he took a sharp intake of breath. Then he was pulled quickly upwards, his gun falling from his grasp, making him feel defenseless and weak. Within moments, Jace was dangling before the hero himself, twenty feet it the air. Batman glared at him, as if he knew everything going on.

"Who are you?" the hero asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

Jace, wanting to speak to Batman just as much as he wanted to speak to his father, inclined his chin towards his jacket the was slowly slipping up his torso. On it in messy scrawl of his father's was 'Jester' in white paint. The hero took a moment to read it, then looked Jace in the eye where he saw something he didn't expect. In the eyes of the Jester, Batman saw utter sadness and... regret.

"You don't want to be here do you?" the hero asked, his voice a bit less raspy. Jace pursed his black colored lips, angry Batman could read him so easily, but he still responded with a shake of the head. No, Jace did not want to be here. He didn't want to be the bad guy, but that was all he was ever going to amount to.

And that was the answer that got him pulled onto the top of the building by the hero his father was so amused by. The claw released his leg, and Jace scrambled to his feet as the hero stood there, watching.

"Go home, kid," Batman instructed with a shake of his head, "This is no life to live; especially under the Joker. He will make your life miserable. It's no life a parent wants their child to live. I know if my-" The hero cut off, with a quick shake of the head. He was releasing too much information, opening up too much just because his underused parent instinct was coming out. "Just go home kid. Get out of town- you'll be safer." And the hero dived off the building, opening up wing like things to his side.

Jace watched his disappear, then took off running. He was forced to leave the gun behind as cops would be at the scene any moment and Jace wasn't going to risk the chance of being caught. Instead, he just found the way down into the building he was on top of. He thankfully was able to find a sky light. Busting it open, he found it was only a short drop and fell into an abandoned hall of a hotel. It seemed either this hall had not yet gotten any tenets or everyone was asleep. He didn't really care which as he ran through, trying to find somewhere he could wash his face.

He ended up going down to the first floor by stairwell, knowing everyone in their right mind used elevators. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was glad to see he was not in the lobby, but more of a deserted convention center. Jace crept through the place and, thankfully found a restroom where he was able to wash off the thick makeup undisturbed.

Afterwards, Jace existed the place out an emergency exit, which made an alarm sound. And sprinklers spray down, thinking they were protecting everyone from a fire. By doing this, Jace had made escape easier for himself and many others who were probably hiding behind dumpsters and shedding their masks. Soon the street would be full of people to blend into. Jace would not be blending, though. He had a different method of escape as he saw beam of light bouncing off brick walls. Quickly opening a manhole in the alley behind to hotel, Jace climbed in. The only thing that remained of him was a gun with useless fingerprints, possible video footage of a hooded figure breaking into and escaping the hotel, and the gentle clunk of the manhole sliding into place...

About an hour had passed by time Jace emerged from the sewer, having known the quickest route through to his home. He stunk badly though, as he climbed onto the cracked asphalt in an condemned part of town where a bad flood had hit about two years before. No one had ever bothered to clean up the mess, so the better of about five houses had become Jace's eleventh home.

Upon entering the house, Jace saw his mother, the once infamous Harley Quinn, shivering on the couch, a bottle of wine in her slender fingers. The poor thing. Jace picked a blanket from the corner and went to cover her with it.

"Jace?" she asked softly as the fabric touched her skin.

"Yeah, ma," Jace sighed softly, as his mother's tired dark eyes opened to look upon her son.

"Oh thank heavens," she said in a wispy voice, her eyes closing. She was tired. And so Jace left her and went up to his room to take a quick shower.

Turning the water's heat up as much as he could, he stepped into the searing stream of liquid. It burned his back and his blonde head, but Jace only winced slightly and stood there. He washed himself with a bar of scratchy soap, then just stood there until the hot water turned ice cold. Then he shut it off.

Whistling filled the room as Jace stood in the shower dripping. His father was waiting for him. As slowly as he could, Jace dried off thoroughly with an old blue towel, which he then wrapped around his waist before leaving the steam filled bathroom. There sitting on the aged cot was his father, still with makeup covering his face. But then, Jace's father hardly ever removed his makeup.

"Jace, just the man I wanted to see," the Joker said, licking his red lips.

"What?" Jace asked, not amused. His father wanted something, and Jace had a feeling he knew what it was.

"Well, my boy, you seemed to have gotten the Batman menace to pay you an appearance tonight," the Joker reminded his son, who shrugged, not moving from his spot by the bathroom door, "Did you tell him anything?" Jace rolled his eyes. His father knew while he was 'Jester' he did not speak. It was a trademark.

"No."

"What did the Batman say to you then?" the Joker went on interrogating. Jace once more shrugged.

"Told me to get out of town. Said no parent wanted their kids to do this kind of stuff, and then got kinda weird. He started to say something and then just.. Stopped," Jace said, not mentioning how the hero had been able to tell Jace didn't want to be there.

"What did he say?" the questioning continued.

"Something along the lines, 'I know of my-' then he stopped. He had been saying parents want the best for the kids," Jace said, sending a glare at his father, who didn't even register it.

"Interesting," the Joker mumbled. Then he stood, and left Jace alone.


	3. Chapter Two

"Florence," the Phantom whispered, looking at the child... his child through the darkness of the opera house. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and tried his best to push them away. He had never thought he would have a child... yes, he knew Christine was to have one that was his, but he had never known having a child would feel like it did. Never imagined it would make him feel so good.

The Phantom held Florence close to his heart and kissed the infant's head gently. He wondered if she would be frightened of him as so many others were... or perhaps she would accept him. He looked down to see two little eyes watching him and he smiled.

"Hello, my little angel," he cooed, his voice almost cracking, "I'm sorry you've had to go through all of this hassle today..." The baby made a small noise and the Phantom laughed a little. "I suppose you're hungry, aren't you, little one?" he asked the infant, then added, "I suppose Madame Giry can take care of that as I have no clue what to do for you... "

~-de Changy Manor~-~-~-~

"No, Raoul!" Christine shrieked, "She can't be! No! What will happen when he realizes... Raoul we will be killed! He will kill us!" Raoul watched his wife in horror. He knew she would take the news of the infants 'death' badly, but this he never expected. She was beside herself, scared to death that when the Phantom found out about the death of his child, he would come after them. He knew it was wrong to let her worry, but he couldn't tell her the baby still lived. She would undoubtedly want to see the child. Instead, he found himself sprouting another lie.

"Christine, my love," he said silkily, "the Opera Ghost is dead. I heard a few men speaking of him... it was, apparently, a rather gruesome death." Christine's eyes were stretched wide open at this news, but then they became calm. She became calm, lying down in the bed. She clutched her heart as if to keep it from racing out of her chest.

"Oh, Raoul," she whispered, "Oh Raoul, we have been saved... Though I do feel bad for the Phantom... and the baby... Oh the baby..." Raoul shushed his wife comfortingly and sat beside her on the bed.

"I think it's better this way," Raoul said softly, "We both know that if we kept her we would only grow to resent her and the Phantom. Now her and her father are together." At least that was true. They were together. Christine merely nodded, but Raoul felt as though his lie had worked just as he wanted it to.

~-Opera Populaire~-~-~-~

"She looks like her," Madame Giry cooed as she took the baby into her arms, "And she has your eyes."

"I know, Madame," the Phantom said, looking to Madame Giry, "I want you to care for her. Just until she has grown a little." Madame Giry looked from the child to the Phantom.

"But..." she began, but the Phantom held up a hand to silence her.

"Take her," the Phantom said, "It can be your way of thanking me for not killing you when you betrayed me, Giry."

"You know I had no choice... " Madame Giry hissed angrily, "If I hadn't told them Meg and I would have gotten into much trouble. I would have lost my job and if you killed more and I never revealed you I would have been hung. Would you like that? Do you want me to hang Erik!?" The little girl screeched out a cry, as she had been woken from her sleep. The Phantom took a step back, frightened too by Madame Giry's outburst and the fact she had just... just...

"You used my name," he said softly, almost inaudible over his child's cries, "I did not think you remembered it, Madame." Madame Giry's hard face softened a bit as she looked upon the man she had cared for and served since she was just a young girl.

"I could not forget your name, Erik," she responded gently, giving him a small yet warm smile and bouncing the baby a little to sooth her until her cries toned down.

"Then why do you never use it?" the Phantom- or Erik- asked almost sadly. Madame Giry shook her head. She did not know why she had stopped calling the Phantom by his true name. Erik. Poor little Erik who she had saved from the circus where he was so vulnerable and so broken... Perhaps that was why Madame Giry stopped calling Erik just that. Because he had become strong and put himself together when he thought Christine truly loved him. He had been so sure of himself and had killed anyone in the was in the way of his confident plans, but now looking at him, she saw just how lost and broken and vulnerable he was once more. He was no longer the head-strong Phantom who had planned his keeping of Christine; this man before her was little Erik, lost and confused, but still stubbornly acting aflame about the previous year's events and not wanting to admit that deep down he was aching for compassion Christine had showed him.

"I don't know," Madame Giry lied with a smile to Erik, "But I will try to remember to call you Erik once more, my old friend."

"And will you keep her?" Erik asked hopefully, looking to his daughter and pressing a warm hand to her small cheek as she was becoming fussy once more, "Please? I don't know what to feed her or how to calm her..."

"Of course I will care for your child, Erik," Madame Giry comforted. A smile- a small smile, but a smile all the same- crossed onto Erik's face, something Madame Giry had not seen in quiet a long time. "And I will teach you to care for her yourself," she added.

"Thank you, Madame," Erik said, stroking his baby's cheek, "I must go now. There is business I must attend to."

"You never did tell me her name," Madame Giry reminded Erik as he turned away. The baby whimpered sadly. Erik smiled a little, knowing his child was already attached to himself.

"Her name is Florence," he said to Madame Giry, looking back into his baby's beautiful obsidian eyes. She looked back to his. Then he turned his head back to look before himself and stalked away down the corridor. He would probably never tell Madame Giry what a favor she was doing him, but he was very grateful for her help especially since he had never even held a baby before Florence.

Little Florence wriggled in Madame Giry's arms, and cried softly as Erik walked away. Madame Giry hushed the baby, and watched to as her father walked off. She wondered how he was planning on raising his child in a ruined Opera house which was beyond repair with the owners' budget not being able to fully pay the large fee of restoration. She shook her head, and then she too started down the corridor but in the opposite direction of Erik. She found her way to Christine Daae's room, a room that had not been entered since Christine had permanently fled from the opera house.

"I suppose this will one day be your room, little Florence," Madame Giry said softly, looking about the room. It was very dusty, and the mirror was propped open so one could obviously see it was a passage way. Madame Giry, shifting Florence so the child was supported by only one of her arms, walked into Christine's old room and shut the mirror back. Glancing around once more, Madame Giry saw a rose, vibrant red as if it had just been placed there a day ago. "And child," Madame Giry continued speaking to the child, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at it, "no matter how much your father may claim he hates your mother, always know he is lying. He loved her greatly... And he still does." With that, Madame Giry retreated from the room. Florence had fallen asleep comfortably in her arms.

Madame Giry started towards her own room which wasn't far from that of Christine's old one.

"Mama," Madame Giry heard her teenage daughter Meg call as she neared the room the two of them stayed in, "Mama, is that you?"

"Yes my dear," Madame Giry replied, pulling open one of a pair of white doors to reveal a rather large room. It was the room that belonged to La Carlotta when she still reigned as the Prima Donna over the opera house. It, like Christine's room, had not been damaged much in the fire. Two beds were pushed against the far wall on either side of a large wardrobe and the rest of the walls were pretty much empty as was the rest of the room. Meg sat on one of the two beds, a book open in her lap, one which she quickly threw aside when she saw the little baby in her mother's arms.

"It's adorable!" Meg squeaked. The sleeping baby squirmed in Madame Giry's arms and she hushed her daughter. "Sorry, Mama," Meg whispered, "but what a beautiful child!"

"It's a girl Meg, her name is Florence," Madame Giry informed her daughter.

"Oh looked at her," Meg crooned softly, admiring little Florence before realizing... "Mama, where did this child come from?" Madame Giry's lips pressed into a tight line as she thought of her answer. After a moment, she decided with the truth.

"It is the Phantom's child," she told her daughter, "The Phantom's and Christine's." Meg gasped almost dramatically.

"The Phantom and Christine?" Meg questioned. Her mother nodded, and then Meg went on to ask, "He is... still here? In the opera house?" Madame Giry tensed slightly, hearing the excitement in her daughter's question.

"Meg," she started, her tone warning, "do not seek the Phantom out, do you understand me? I do not want you to end up like Christine and I do not want you to turn to what he obsesses over." Meg flinched at her mother's stern tone. She nodded sadly. She wasn't planning on spending her free time with the Phantom as Christine had, she just wanted to meet the man whom she had secretly fantasized over ever since she was small and heard the older ballerina's talking about him. "Meg, do you understand me?" Madame Giry asked angrily.

"Yes, mama," Meg sighed. Her mother, though not fully convinced, nodded and walked to her own bed, singing a song she had once heard a crowd of masked dancers sing.

"Masquerade," she sang softly and slowly, "Paper faces on parade, masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you."


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

If there was a favorite pass time to be had in his home, Jace would say reading was it. He knew it probably would sound stupid if he ever tried explaining it to anyone, but books- if they were good with a nice, thick plot- could really take your mind off things for a while. Take you away from reality for awhile... Yes, reading was a favorite pass time, but it also required books. At the moment, Jace had none of those as the ones he had stashed in his room had indeed been found days before and had been used by his father as scrap for the fire. And that was why Jace was now enjoying his second favorite pass time.

He could have passed for dead, had anyone but his father walked in. It was something Jace had practiced since he was young; being completely and utterly lifeless in appearance. Barely breathing, unmoving, and unblinking eyes transfixed on the cracked ceiling. His arm was hanging off the bed, his other limbs splayed out on the mattress. Yes, if it had been anyone but his father, Jace would have been presumed dead. Sadly, his father knew his act and had a keen eye for the rising and falling of a person's chest, even if that rise was only a centimeter of difference.

"You aren't fooling anyone, Jace," the Joker grumbled, glaring distastefully at his son. Jace blinked once, letting his father know that he was in fact listening to him. The Joker rolled his eyes. Usually he would not stand for even the slightest of disrespect, however right now he was in a rather good mood. "Fine, play dead, as long as you are listening," Joker growled, then let a sly smile grace his red painted lips, "I think I have found the identity of our dear batty friend." At this news, Jace sat up, a shocked look shooting across his usually blank face.

"Batman?" he asked, eyebrows arched up.

"No, Jace, I mean the Killer Croc," the Joker barked sarcastically, "Of course the Batman, you dunce. I swear sometimes you are as stupid as your mother." At the comment on his mother, Jace stood up, his arms flexing. However, he fell back on the bed a moment later as the Joker tried to stab him in the chest. He chuckled softly, looking at his glaring son. "I keep you alive because I knew if you died I'd never hear the end of it from Harley," the Joker explained, "and, I need an heir. However, if you try to attack me, I will have no trouble killing you, Jace."

"I figured you'd have no trouble killing your own son," Jace muttered, but then shut up as the knife his father had was pressed flat against his cheek.

"It isn't polite to interrupt people, Jace," the Joker informed his son, before going to say, "Now, about the Batman. You see, I did my research and a bit of snooping, then pushed all that together with previous suspicions. It seems I was right on my first, long ago guess. Mr. Bruce Wayne." Now Jace really looked shocked, but as he thought about it, the accusation began making sense. Bruce Wayne was a millionaire that was rarely seen. When he did come out of his house, he always had some sort of new injury along with some extreme excuse such as mountain climbing. Sure, it could seem normal, but now that Jace remembered, he once saw his father dislocate the Batman's left knee with a hard whack of a gun. A few days later, Bruce Wayne appeared in public with a woman from a visiting opera, limping on his left leg. He had said it was accident in spelunking adventures.

"So are you going to kill him?" Jace asked, trying to ignore the cold blade resting against his jaw. The Joker scoffed, putting the knife back into one of his many inside coat pockets.

"Of course we aren't going to kill the Batman! He is much too... entertaining," the Joker laughed, "I told you, I did my research, Jace, and what I found was definitely unexpected. However, it is a perfect opportunity." The Joker paused, looking to Jace. Jace had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"What is a perfect opportunity?" Jace questioned, playing into his part.

"Miss Haven Wayne," the Joker sighed, an evil glint in his eye, "Mr. Bruce Wayne's hidden daughter."

"You are going to kill his daughter?" Jace asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable by his father's quest. Jace may have killed many men, but he had never killed a women. Much less a girl. And he didn't want to ever have to be forced by his father to do so.

"Not exactly," the Joker chuckled, "I have a plan."

Three nights later, Jace stood outside Wayne Manor, fist raised to knock upon the large front door. He couldn't believe he had to do this. But, what his father ordered, Jace did. No questions asked. Jace rapped his knuckles three times on the wood, then waited. Within one minute, the door had opened to reveal a well dressed elder man with stark white hair and a deeply lined face.

"Is there something I can do for you at this late hour, sir?" the old man asked in an accented voice as he looked Jace over. And so the act began.

"I would like to see Mr. Wayne, please, sir," Jace mumbled softly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted here and there. He was acting nervous, acting scared.

"Mr. Wayne is a very busy man," the old man notified Jace, who kept his annoyance within himself, "I'd rather not bother him with fundraisers and such you kids do now in days." Holding back the reflex to roll his eyes at the stupid assumption, Jace shook his head.

"It.. It isn't that," Jace told the old man, "I... I'm in some trouble with... well, with... I-"

"Alfred, who's at the door?" a younger male voice asked, and in the door way beside the old man appeared the very man Jace was looking for. Bruce Wayne, the Batman himself.

"My name is Jace, sir," Jace said quickly before the old man, Alfred, could answer Mr. Wayne, "I... I'm the boy you caught... the other night..." Mr. Wayne's eyes narrowed a moment as brief surprised expression came over his face. He definitely hadn't been expecting a felon to show up at his doorstep.

"You know," Mr. Wayne said, more to himself than to Jace.

"Y-yes, sir," Jace stuttered, "I... I'm in trouble with... _him_. I c-can't get out of Gotham, he's w-watching for me... Please, Mr. Wayne, I need help. I can work, I just.. I need a place he won't find me." Mr. Wayne looked at the pitiful boy who was nervously running his fingers through greasy blonde hair. Towards him, Mr. Wayne felt sympathetic, and so he nodded for Alfred to widen the open door so the boy could get in.

"You're safe here," Mr. Wayne assured Jace, who returned the kind words with a shaky smile. He was in. His pitiful act had worked, though he hadn't thought it wouldn't. Mr. Wayne ushered Jace into the manor, allowing Alfred to close the door behind the boy.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Wayne, sir," Jace thanked the man, "You have no clue... I just.. I'm sorry if I'm intruding, it's just.. I can work, sir-"

"How old are you Jace?" Mr. Wayne asked, putting a stop to Jace's rambling as he led him to a sitting room on the main floor.

"I'm twenty-one, sir," Jace informed, truthfully. Mr. Wayne nodded as he sat down in a large armchair, gesturing for Jace to take a seat on the matching couch that sat beside it. Jace sat, making sure to have his eyes dart around anxiously.

"So," Mr. Wayne started as Alfred shut the door to the sitting room, joining them and going to sit in a second armchair, "you are the Jester?"

"Y-yes, sir," Jace admitted.

"I thought you couldn't speak?" Bruce Wayne stated, though it was more of a question. Jace shook his head.

"I.. I didn't when I was... working, sir," Jace mumbled, glancing over his shoulder to see out a dark window. He looked back forward to see Mr. Wayne watching him understanding. Jace had to fight to keep the facade and not snort. As if Bruce Wayne understood what Jace was going through- even in his dramatic act.

"Tell me about yourself, Jace," Mr. Wayne requested, "What's your story?"

"I grew up outside of Gotham, in a bad part of town. Not many good influences.. My dad died, so I was living with just my mom. A lot of bad things happened around there, but my mom.. she always kept everything covered up... Told me to get an education and live a good life... I graduated a year early from Gotham High, and went on to Gotham University... I... I was studying to be a high school teacher... But then my mom died this past summer and... I... I dropped out of school," Jace recited the perfectly memorized story, "It... it was a murder... The Joker, he.. he found me and he told me he could help me.. Help me find my mom's killer... I joined up with him and I did kill the man, but then... He wouldn't let me leave." Mr. Wayne nodded, observing the nervous young man. He had a feeling there was something he wasn't saying, but Mr. Wayne still believed him.

"How did you get away?" Mr. Wayne continued his questioning.

"He thought I was dead," Jace informed Mr. Wayne, for once making eye contact, "He.. He saw me and he thought I was dead... He left me in the apartment this evening when he found me... He probably has realized by now... I need to stay hidden, sir." After the explanation, Jace glanced back out the window, then let his eyes shoot to the door.

"He won't know your here," Mr. Wayne promised, then after a moment of thought, went to say, "I think I may have a job for you."


	5. Chapter Four

Haven awoke early in the morning, blinking the first beams of sunlight out of her eyes. She stumbled sleepily around her bedroom, too tired to yet properly function. She picked a pair of jeans and shirt at random, and, along with her undergarments, donned them as her stomach let out a raging growl. Haven hurried out of her room, and as soon as she opened her door, the scent of bacon smacked into her.

"Alfred?" she yawned as she walked into the kitchen. Sure enough, Alfred was there, a consisting of poached eggs, a croissant roll, and- as Haven had hoped- sizzling bacon.

"Your father is waiting in the dining room," Alfred told Haven as he pushed the plate into her hands. Haven's brow furrowed in confusion. Her father was going to share a meal with her? That was not normal, not at all. The last meal they had shared was on Haven's birthday five months back... "Go on, Miss Haven," Alfred nodded, shooing her along, "It is best not to keep Master Bruce waiting." Haven nodded, then pushed open another door with her shoulder leading her into the grand dining room. Three people already sat at the table eating- Haven's father, Mr. Verking, and a young man not too much older than herself. She frowned, seeing the unknown addition, but went to sit at her father's left so she was across from Mr. Verking.

"What's going on?" Haven asked as Alfred pushed through the door with his own plate and a jug of orange juice. Mr. Wayne waited on Alfred to fill all the glasses and take his seat before he sat down his own fork.

"Mr. Verking will be leaving earlier than expected, seeing as a proper replacement has found its way to us," Mr. Wayne announced. Haven's eyes widened, and she dropped the croissant she was about to bite into, her eyes flashing from Mr. Verking to the mysterious young man.

"Your firing Mr. Verking!" Haven squeaked angrily.

"Haven," Mr. Verking sighed, "You know I was only staying a few more weeks. Or until a good replacement was found. Well, this is Mr. Jace Hardlin and he seems like the perfect replacement. I spent all morning talking to him and he is a delightful young man."

Haven couldn't find a response, and so kept her face emotionless. She knew Mr. Verking would have to be replaced, she just.. She didn't think it would be _that_ fast. Alfred, sensing Haven's distress much better than her father, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Haven, I assure you myself that Jace is a wonderful young man and I think you two will get along just fine. And it isn't like Mr. Verking is just vanishing from the face of the earth. You can still write him, can't you, Miss?" Alfred soothed, taking no effect on Haven what so ever.

"May I be excused?" Haven asked, and then without permission she stood and ran from the dining room.

"Should've known she'd react like this," Mr. Verking sighed as Mr. Wayne got up and ran after Haven. Alfred shook his head, knowing the toll all this was taking on Haven. Mr. Verking was like part of the family to her; he had been around for years and for the last few years, he and Alfred had been more of a family to Haven than her own father.

"Is.. she going to be alright?" Jace asked softly, his act still up as he looked to where Haven had vanished, followed by Mr. Wayne.

"She will come to terms with it soon enough," Alfred told Jace, "She just isn't ready for things to change I do suppose."

"Poor kid," Mr. Verking mumbled, standing, and then raised his voice to a normal volume as he patted Jace's back, "Be good to her, bud. She's quite a piece of work, so watch after her. Your her new family."

"Haven!" Mr. Wayne called as he heard his daughter's light footsteps running straight to her room. A door slammed. Mr. Wayne, slowing his pace until he came to a stop outside Haven's door. "Haven?" he asked tentatively, rapping gingerly on the door, "Come on, we need to talk."

"No we don't!" Haven shouted from behind the closed door, "You replaced Mr. Verking! You didn't even ask me!" Mr. Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps he should've asked Haven about Jace before announcing he would be filling Mr. Verking's place..

"Haven, you don't understand," Mr. Wayne growled, angry at himself. He was a lousy parent and now he had made his one child upset- his little girl. The door flung open, causing Mr. Wayne to jump back before it struck him in the nose.

"I don't understand?" Haven hissed, "Dad, I'm not a little girl anymore. I know how to take care of myself! You should know that considering I'm still alive when your barely here!" Mr. Wayne was taken aback with his daughter's sudden rage.

"Haven, come on," Mr. Wayne said softly, trying to calm his daughter, " You know I love you. You just.. you don't know all that happens in the world these days." Haven let out a sharp laugh retreating into her room. Mr. Wayne followed cautiously. He hadn't been into Haven's room in years... It seemed pretty much the same, except... "What's this?" Mr. Wayne whispered, walking immediately towards a desk over which hung cork board over flowing with articles from the newspaper. On the table he could see a few more clippings from the paper, and in the trash bin the remainder. However, his attention was mainly focused on the clippings that hung on the board. All were about Batman, or Batman related at the least... Except for one article about Mr. Bruce Wayne and his donations which hung in the centre of the shrine for the super hero.

"I know what happens, dad," Haven whispered from where she sat on her bed, "Even when you and Alfred wouldn't tell me, I found out. You couldn't have thought you could keep it from me for that long."

"When did you figure it out?" Mr. Wayne breathed, his fingers flicking up articles, looking under them at old ones.

"When I was about twelve," Haven responded with a shrug, "I started to notice how late you were out... and then I saw an article of how the Batman was attacked by a mobster' dogs and you had bites all over your leg. Alfred wouldn't let you out of bed that day." The room filled with silence, and Mr. Wayne took a step back from the board.

"You shouldn't be worrying about this stuff, Haven," he mumbled, turning away from the board. Haven saw his eyes were watery, something rare for her father. She watched as he shook his head, and then fled from her room, closing the door with a snap behind himself.


	6. Chapter Five

It seemed like forever that Haven was sitting in that same spot, tears just dripping from her eyes. Her father had just... left. Told her she shouldn't worry about things and left. He didn't apologize for not telling her and keeping the information, he didn't offer an explanation. Nothing. And how in the world was she supposed to not worry about something like her father being Batman?! There was no way that worry could be chased away.

From somewhere in the house, she heard raised voices. Alfred and her father, probably something about Haven's knowledge or her father's lack of when it came to his daughter...

"Haven?" a soft, male voice asked, as a small knock sounded against her door. It had to be Jace, her new teacher.. Haven took a deep breath, quickly wiping her eyes before putting on a small smile.

"Come in," she called just loud enough for him to hear. The door creaked open and Jace peeked in shyly.

"Uh, um.. Hi, Haven," he stuttered, "I just wanted to, uh, say that, um, I... I'm really sorry about, uh, everything." Haven smiled at Jace, who really was sorry even though he was still acting. He had never lost somebody close to him- as the only one he was really close to was his mother- but he could only imagine having to say goodbye for her forever. Of course, he would probably be more afraid for her safety than upset at her departure..

"Oh, it's fine," Haven whispered, motioning for him to come in. Jace did, leaving the door open behind him, "It isn't your fault, it's just.. Well, in this house, I don't see much of my dad, and he was kind of like that figure in my life. Mr. Verking played the role as father, Alfred played as grandfather, and my dad... He was more like an older brother than anything. Sometimes there, sometimes not; sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn't.. The only times we really spend more than a few minutes together is holidays and birthdays. That's it."

Jace frowned. It seemed like he spent more time with his dad than she did with hers... and his dad threatened to kill him half the time.

"I mean, it didn't use to be like this," Haven continued, her voice growing weaker with each word, "When I was little, dad used to come in my room and talk to me.. It wasn't much, but it was something- a guaranteed ten minutes I had with him. I'm lucky if I get that much time within a week. And he.. he used to eat meals with me and Alfred. I just... he doesn't get it. I know he's busy... And I get that Alfred basically raised him, but that was because his parents both died and they couldn't do it! My mom is gone- I don't know if she is alive or not or anything about her! I don't even know her name! All I have is here, and my dad, and Alfred. I don't have friends. I haven't even met anyone besides the people who have come into this house and my own dad... he... he doesn't even have enough time to talk to me anymore.. he can't even take a moment to explain all that!" She pointed at the wall, at the mural she had made. Jace raised his eyebrows. So, she knew... And right now, she was tearing at the seams. Tears were streaking her face.

"I'm.. I'm really-" Jace started but stopped as Haven got up from the bed and stamped over to the cork board covered in all the pictures.

"Why can't he even take a minute!" she screamed, slamming her fist into the corkboard before she began ripping the articles off it, "Why can't he just take a few minutes for me!" Jace's eyes widened. He rushed over and grabbed Haven, trying to drag her away from the board that looked as if it took a long time to fill.

"Haven!" Jace called, breaking from the act and becoming his normal harsh self, "Haven! Calm down!"

"He doesn't care!" Haven screeched, fighting against Jace as she slapped the board off the wall, "He doesn't care about his own daughter!" That's when the fighting stopped and Haven collapsed, sobbing, into Jace's arms.

"What is going on in-" Jace heard Alfred say as he came into the room, but then he stopped. "Oh dear.." He rushed over and took Haven into his own hold. "Oh, my dear," Alfred cooed, scooping Haven up into his hold. He was, apparently, quite strong for an old man, "Calm down now, Haven. It's alright. How about some hot tea? Or hot chocolate?" Alfred laid Haven down on her bed where she continued to cry.

"I'll just.. I, I should go," Jace mumbled, going back to his pretended demeanor. He turned toward the door to see Mr. Wayne, looking very much pained as he stared at his daughter.

"He doesn't care about me, Alfred," Haven sobbed into her pillow, completely oblivious to her father's presence.

"Oh, Miss Haven," Alfred mumbled as Jace moved to the door, his head down, "Master Bruce does care. I promise you." Mr. Wayne closed his eyes tight before shaking his head and walking away. Jace closed the door behind himself, and then looked down the hall to watch Mr. Wayne who had turned to the wall. He was shaking, looking as if he was crying. He then banged his fists against the wall, angrily, causing two dents to appear where his fists had been. Jace allowed himself to jump before turning to scurry the other way down the hall towards his room, thinking over the job his father had given him...

_"I just want you to get her to trust you," the Joker told Jace as he got ready, going over his story in his mind once more. Jace looked at his father, arcing his eyebrows._

_"That's all?" Jace asked, knowing something was up. There had to be a catch._

_"For now," his father had shrugged, "Just get her on your side, Jace. Gain her trust. Heck, get her to fall for you if you can! Just don't get too attached." Jace nodded simply before leaving his room and going to see his mom one last time before he left the house for who knew how long. _

_Jace found Harley in the kitchen, amazingly sober. It had been a while since he had seen her sober. She was cooking something- eggs, probably, as that was about all she knew how to cook. _

_"Hey, puddin!" Harley had said in her Brooklyn accented voice, as she turned to smile at her son. Jace smiled lightly back at her, even though her appearance made it hard. She had bags under her eyes and bruises on her uncovered arms. A new bruise was actually sprouting on her cheek._

_"I'm going soon, ma," Jace said lightly, worried for mother's safety once he left._

_"Oh I know," Harley told him happily, her smile growing a little. She came forward and hugged Jace close, her chin just reaching his shoulder. "Jace," Harley whispered, her voice barely even audible where Jace was, "I don't want you to come home... I want you to stick to your story and stay with the Wayne's. You will be safe there, and I want you safe. I know your father has some plan... but, once you get to that house, you will be safe. Don't come home." Harley then moved away, and smiled brightly at Jace before turning to face the stove. "I hope you have a good time, puddin!" she said happily._

_Jace was confused, but he nodded all the same._

_"See you, ma," Jace mumbled, then he turned and left the house through the kitchen's back door. It was getting dark, and he needed to get to Wayne Manor..._

As he opened his door, Jace wondered just who to follow. His mother wanted him to stay, to ignore his father and stay safe. But, his father had his mother. If he didn't do what he said, there was always a possibility he could use Harley against him... No, Jace didn't know what to do. Not yet. For now, he would stick to his act, play the weak victim, and gain Haven's trust. From there, things would just have to fall into place.


	7. Chapter Six

A brisk knock on the door was what woke Jace from his trance and meditative thoughts. He had been thinking over each of his parents' requests once more trying to calculate which would be better. So far, he was still stuck.

"Jace, I have dinner ready, if you are hungry," Alfred alerted him in his old, accented voice. Jace yawned as he sat up, stretching his arms out above his head. _Dinner already? _he thought out bring his arms back down and cracking his knuckles before standing and walking to the door. Jace put on his innocent facade before he opened the door wide to see the white haired butler waiting expectantly.

"I am actually," he lied in a shy mumble, smiling slightly at Alfred.

"Well, right to the kitchen," Alfred instructed, giving him a warm smile in return, "I shall go wake Miss Haven and see if she wants anything."

"Is she, uh... Is Haven alright?" Jace asked curiously, keeping his voice lowered. Alfred sighed.

"I believe she will be just fine.. Master Bruce is a very busy man, as you know, and he can never seem to find time for Haven in it.. He hasn't been able to since she was very young; I'm surprised she hasn't done this before.. But, I managed to slip a sleeping pill into her hot chocolate, and sedated her. She was very distressed, as you could very well see," Alfred explained to Jace, shaking his head sadly.

"Oh," Jace said simply. It surprised Jace, too, that it was the first time Haven had thrown a tantrum if all she said was true.

"He means well, of course," Alfred told Jace, "He just.. doesn't know any better." And with that, Alfred walked off towards the direction of Haven's bedroom, leaving Jace to turn the other way and find his way to the kitchen. However, Alfred did not go to Haven's room first. Instead he continued down the corridor until he reached Mr. Wayne's door. He didn't bother knocking, but instead opened it to see the man on the ground doing one armed pushups.

"Alfred," the man grunted, ducking his head so his butler could not see his face, tear streaked and red eyed, "I wish you would knock once and awhile.."

"Master Bruce, you need to get ready to come down to dinner," Alfred said flatly, his words a command.

"Dinner?" Mr. Wayne asked in surprise, stopping what he was doing and looking up at his butler, "Alfred, I have to go soon. I told Lucious-"

"I have told Lucious to reschedule your meeting for an hour later than originally planned," Alfred notified Mr. Wayne, "Now, get ready for dinner. I must go wake Haven." Mr. Wayne's jaw dropped at Alfred's boldness. He had changed the appointment time? That was very important.

"Alfred," Mr. Wayne said angrily, standing up, "what is all this about?!"

"This is about your daughter, Master Wayne," Alfred snapped back coldly, eyes narrowed at Mr. Wayne, "Or have you already forgotten the happenings of earlier today?" Mr. Wayne looked down, suddenly lost for words as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Alfred, I-"

"Will be getting ready for dinner," Alfred finished for him, and when Mr. Wayne glared at him, he went on to say, "It is the least you can do for Haven. Dinner, four times a week if not more."

"And what will you do if I refuse?" Mr. Wayne questioned his butler, eyebrows in high arcs. Alfred gave the man a sly smile.

"I believe you will have to find out," Alfred told him before leaving the room, this time to truly go to Haven who was no longer asleep.

Haven had woken up around an hour before but had continued to feign sleep as she laid on her green blankets, remembering the old days of her childhood when her father had been around at least most of the time, save for nights when he would work only a few hours. She didn't know what had happened, truthfully. It just seemed as if he had slowly increased his hours until he was out dusk until dawn...

"Miss Haven?" Alfred's voice broke her from her thoughts, "Miss Haven, are you awake?"

"Yes, Alfred," Haven called back softly.

"Are you hungry, Miss Haven? Master Bruce and Jace shall be joining us for-"

"I'm not hungry, Alfred," Haven told Alfred, betraying her stomach. She really was hunger, but she just didn't want to see her father. She heard Alfred sigh behind the door.

"Are you sure, Miss?" he continued questioning. She didn't respond, and soon Alfred was trudging away from her door. As soon as she knew he was gone, Haven got up from bed and walked to where her board was on the floor. Sighing, she picked it up and hung it back on the wall. Some of the articles were a bit ripped.. but she was glad Jace hadn't let her destroy it.

After she had picked up the destroyed and torn papers on the ground, Haven went to her window and lifted it up so fresh air rushed inside. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. She hadn't actually been outside in quite some time. When she was younger, Alfred used to take her to the park... Sometimes her father had even accompanied them.

Haven frowned at the memories. Not because they weren't good memories, but because it was so long ago. Her eyes were grazing along the tree line that marked the back of the Wayne Manor property as she thought, when suddenly something caught her attention. A flash of white. Haven's brows furrowed and she squinted her eyes as if that would help her see. It didn't really, but at the moment a man stepped out from behind a tree. A man with a face painted like a clown, stringy hair dyed green, and clothed in a purple suit. Haven's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Joker. However, then Haven blinked. And when her eyes reopened, the Clown Prince of Crime was gone.

Had she imagined it? Yes, she had to have. Probably some side effect to the sleeping pill Alfred had so cleverly smuggled into her drink earlier. Still, Haven shut the window and locked it, before pulling the curtain closed. She felt anxious suddenly.. Scared to be alone.

"Perhaps I will have dinner," Haven mumbled, rushing out of her room. She practically ran down the hall, paranoia creeping upon her as a light flickered. When she finally reached the dining, she was shaking. The three men looked up to see her as she composed herself.

"It's nice to see you have joined us Miss Haven," Alfred smiled, standing to go fetch her a plate of what looked like chicken. He hadn't noticed her body ever so slightly trembling, but the keen eyes of Jace and Mr. Wayne had.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Wayne asked softly and tentatively, not sure if she would respond and wondering if she was still mad at him.

"Uh, yes," Haven mumbled, letting a small, false smile lay upon her lips, "Just a nightmare, dad." And though he did not believe it, Mr. Wayne nodded, just happy his daughter had answered him.

From there, dinner went with limited conversation. Mr. Wayne left as soon as Alfred dismissed everyone from the table, disappearing to who knows where. Haven, however, remained with Alfred, still nervous. Eventually, though, she was sent to bed with a reminder that in the morning school would be starting at nine sharp.


	8. Chapter Seven

"Miss Haven!" Alfred basically sang as he entered into Haven's room. The girl groaned in sleep turning to her side and hiding her face under her arm as Alfred lifted opened the curtains so sunlight poured in. It was odd that they were closed... Or that Alfred even had to awaken Haven. Usually the curtains were left open so the sun would wake her when it rose at seven and she was out of her bedroom in a flash. When thirty minutes passed with no Haven begging for food, Alfred had gone to investigate.

"No, Alfred," Haven mumbled. Alfred chuckled, shaking his head. He figured Haven had stayed up late into the night, as teenagers did. "Alfred... No! He might see in again..."Alfred froze at her words, dropping the side of the curtain he had been restraining behind a hook.

"What was that Miss?" he asked, walking to the other side of the window and pulling the piece of curtain back over the window, "Who will see in?"

"The Joker," Haven breathed, still not fully conscious as she talked in her sleep, "He will see into my room again, Alfred..." Alfred's face drained of color, and he swiftly exited Haven's room to find himself before Mr. Wayne's door a moment later. He knocked quickly, before letting the door swing open to reveal Mr. Wayne rising from his bed, looking irritable.

"Alfred," Mr. Wayne growled, "I agreed to dinner, not break-"

"I think we may have a problem, sir," Alfred reported, his voice trembling as he thought of the filthy criminal even watching Haven from a distance, "It's about Haven." That woke Mr. Wayne up quicker than anything could have.

"What's wrong with her?" he questioned, almost jumping out of his bed as he rushed to Alfred, only wearing his long sleeping pant, "Is she hurt? Did she run away? Did-"

"She is unharmed and accounted for, Master Bruce," Alfred assured, but then added, "You may want to speak with her though, before she wakes up. She was talking in her sleep to me.. About the Joker." Mr. Wayne waited for no more explanation, but ran to Haven's room. When he arrived, she was still sleeping soundly, so he kneeled by the bed.

"Did you not tell me something, Haven?" he whispered, careful to keep his voice low as not to wake her, "It's your father... Did something happen last night that you kept from me?" Haven grumbled in her sleep, her face scrunching ever so slightly as if upset.

"He was here, daddy," she whispered back, her voice making her sound like she was about to begin crying, "I saw him..." She trailed off, and mumbled something Mr. Wayne couldn't quite make out.

"Saw who Haven?" Mr. Wayne continued interrogating.

"No," Haven moaned, "I don't... want you mad..."

"I won't be mad Haven," Mr. Wayne assured, "I love you; I just want to help you. Who did you see Haven?"

"The... Joker," Haven breathed, her face looking as if her dream had turned disturbed. "Daddy..." Haven began again, her voice steadily growing louder, "He's coming... He saw me last night... He's coming... for me!" Haven let out an ear piercing shriek, one after another.

"Haven!" Bruce shouted, lifting Haven by the shoulders and shaking her awake. Her eyes snapped open. Haven screamed for another moment, and then it turned into deep breaths, he body shaking.

"Daddy?" she whispered, looking at Mr. Wayne with a look that made him feel like he was going to melt. It reminded him of when she was a child and something bad happened- which was something she was not used to. When she was scared or upset she would wear that same look...

"Go back to sleep, Haven," Mr. Wayne whispered, "You're safe." Haven watched her father a moment more, and then her eyelids fell closed; she was exhausted. Mr. Wayne slowly lowered her to lay back on the bed, before straightening up and exiting the room. When he walked out, he found Alfred and Jace standing at the door.

"Is everything alright, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked for the both of them, who had come because of the screams.

"Yes," Mr. Wayne assured, before he began making orders, "Alfred, please arrange Haven's room to be moved down and across the hall, next to mine." Alfred gave Mr. Wayne a questioning look, but nodded all the same and went to prepare the empty bedroom. Mr. Wayne's eyes turned on Jace. "I believe your previous employer may be on to us. Do not worry- you are safe here. Just remember, no contact with the outside world. You are like Haven now... Invisible. And speaking of Haven, her classes will be postponed two hours. She needs sleep."

"But Mr. Wayne-"

"Two hours, Jace," Mr. Wayne called, as he started toward his room, "I'll see you all at dinner."


	9. Chapter Eight

The two hours passed slowly, and Jace spent them sitting in the kitchen, watching Alfred cook and mutter things to himself.

"A-Alfred.." Jace said, making sure his voice was soft and nervous. Alfred looked around at him, and he seemed just as worried as Jace sounded with his face paled.

"Yes, Jace?" Alfred asked, sounding almost out of breath. Jace frowned, looking at the old man and wondering what got the composed old chap all worked up. He knew that it had something to do with his father, but…

"W-what is happening, Alfred?" Jace almost whispered, "What is.. what's happening? Mr. Wayne… he said that.. that my old boss-"

"Yes, the Joker," Alfred muttered, "Haven saw him last night, said he was watching her through the window…" Jace's eyebrows pulled together in genuine confusion. His father had been lurking around the place? That had not been part of the plan..

"Are you sure?" Jace asked seriously, accidently dropping his persona, but Alfred didn't seem to notice as a puzzled expression came over him.

"Well… I'm not that sure, actually… Haven just seemed so intent on keeping that window shut and the curtains closed," Alfred mumbled, pausing a moment before continuing, "But… perhaps it was only a dream of hers.. She was still half-asleep.." Jace nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps… I mean, h-how would my… the Joker know?" Jace went on, "He… he can't know I'm.. that I'm here, can he?" Alfred frowned, pondering what Jace said.

"No," Alfred said, shaking his head and looking to Jace, "No, he couldn't know you are here, Jace…" Jace nodded, genuinely confused with all this speak of his father. His father was supposed to be keeping his distance while Jace got close to the girl… Perhaps Haven was just paranoid. After all, hadn't she had a mental break down the same day she apparently saw the Joker? And she had that whole board…

"A-alright," Jace mumbled, then noticing the clock on the microwave, stood, "I should be waking Haven.. It's time for her lessons." At Jace's last sentence, Alfred looked over his shoulder and saw the clock also.

"Oh, yes," he said, clearing his throat and pulling himself together, "Please, take her into the study. I need to be moving her belongings down to the room next to her father's." Jace only nodded in response and left the kitchen headed in the direction of Haven's bedroom.

When Jace reached the room, he saw the door was shut. He frowned at this, as it had been open when he and Alfred had gone off to the kitchen.. And Mr. Wayne had left the manor… Jace knocked thrice on Haven's door. No response. He frowned and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

"Haven, it's-" Jace stopped as he saw the bed of Haven Wayne was empty, "Haven?.. Haven?!"

"Mmnmm," he heard a soft moan coming from the other side of the bed. Jace sighed in relief as he went to the other side of the bed and found Haven lying on the floor.

"Hey, Haven," Jace said softly, shaking her arm and lifting her a little off the ground, "Haven, come on, get up. It's ten, time for class." Jace watched as Haven opened her mouth and gave a little yawn before blinking her eyes open. She jumped a bit upon seeing him, but Jace kept his hold on her so she wouldn't fall back and she quickly calmed herself.

"Oh Jace, it's you," she said quietly, yawning, "What time is it?"

"Ten," Jace told her to which her eyes went wide.

"Ten!?" she practically shouted, "Why did no one wake me! Oh, God, I'm already late for my schooling this morning aren't I? I'm so sorry, Jace. I-"

"No, no," Jace chuckled, stopping Haven from continuing her rant, "Haven, your father told me not to wake you-"

"What, why?!" Haven asked angrily, standing quickly and grabbing a robe to throw over her pajama clad self. Jace frowned.

"Do you not remember your… your episode this morning?" Jace question curiously, following Haven as she went to the board dedicated to her father and straightened it. She paused a second, then looked at Jace, her face pale.

"Oh gosh," she whispered, "Did that… did that actually happen?" Haven remembered the happenings of the morning, but they were so blurred and so unreal that she had sworn it was just a dream.

"Yes," Jace nodded, "You were screaming that he was coming to get you.." Haven closed her eyes, trembling a little.

"The Joker," she whispered, before opening her eyes and looking to where the window was with the curtain tugged closed. Jace frowned, as she looked genuinely frightened staring at it.

"Haven?" he said lightly, stepping forward and lying a hand on her shoulder. At his touch, she jumped as if she had gotten an electric zap where his fingers had been. Jace retracted his hand, but went to ask, "Are you alright?"

"I… I guess so," Haven mumbled beneath her breath. It seemed like everything was okay now, at least.

"Haven.. Did you actually see him?" Jace asked in a whisper. Haven nodded, though she looked unsure.

"I… I think I did," Haven answered, glancing to the closed window, "But.. but it was so fast.. One moment he was there and the next… He had just disappeared." She thought to the day previous. She had been under a lot of stress with Jace becoming her new teacher and her little break down… And Alfred had given her medication.. "Maybe.. maybe I just imagined it," she suggested, leaning back against her desk. Jace nodded, glancing to the window, too.

"Yeah…" he agreed, "Maybe."


End file.
